


By My Will

by Sweetheart627



Category: Nightwish, Tuomas Holopainen - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Graphic Violence, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-31
Updated: 2014-05-31
Packaged: 2018-01-27 20:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1721699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sweetheart627/pseuds/Sweetheart627





	1. Deliver Us From Evil

Drip. Drip. Drip. 

That was the only sound Tuomas heard when he woke up. He shook his head to clear the heavy, fuzzy feeling clouding his senses. When he could think clearly, he opened his eyes and looked around him. He was standing in a small, cold, damp, stone room; one that was completely unfamiliar to him. The only things he could see were a ratty-looking bed against the left wall, a steel door at the far end of the room, a dripping pipe along the corner and top of the right wall, a small table sitting in the center of the room, and a bright fluorescent light above him. 

He was trying to make his way over to sit on the bed when he realized that he was chained. His arms, which were numb from loss of circulation, where stretched above him by heavy chains that didn't look breakable. His ankles, likewise, were linked together and held in place by a large stake in the ground about half a foot behind him. Tuomas twisted to look behind him, but all that was there was another stone wall with a locked metal cabinet, possibly a fuse box, hanging directly behind him.

"HELP! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP ME!" He called again and again, but to no avail. The composer went back to the last memory he had. He had been at a bar with Emppu and Tero. After leaving, he had walked down the street to his car when someone had attacked him with a chloroform cloth. At least he figured it was chloroform as it had cause him to black out in a matter of seconds. 

"Oh, God. Where am I?" He lowered his head and stood there, praying someone would come find him. 

Finally, after what had seemed like hours, Tuomas heard someone come in. He looked up and saw his redemption. "Johanna? What are you doing here? Help me out of these chains." He stared, confused as she calmly walked over to the table and set down a bowl of steaming soup and a glass of water. 

"I brought you here. I've been planning this ever since you dumped me four months ago. No one dumps me, especially after eight years, without regretting it." She slowly sauntered over to him as she spoke. All Tuomas could do is watch in horror. She had brought him here? How could she? What did she want from him? 

"Hey! Don't ignore me," she shouted as she slapped him hard across the face. The sound echoed through the room as Johanna glared the man with a cruel countenance. "When I speak, you listen. When I ask, you answer. When I order, you obey. Do you understand?" 

"You're crazy," he spat the words at her as she retrieved the bowl on the table. "Let me go! You can't do this. You're insane." 

"I'd be more careful if I were you. Right now you depend on me for everything. So watch what you say." She ladled some soup up for him but he simply turned away from her. "Fine! Rot down here for all I care!" With that, she dumped the steaming contents of the bowl down the front of Tuomas's shirt. 

The composer howled in pain as the scalding hot liquid scorched his chest and stomach. Johanna splashed the water on his face, unintentionally cooling the burn a bit, and stalked out angrily, slamming and locking the door on her way. 

After the stinging of the hot soup had subsided in the cool, damp air, Tuomas began thinking of some way out of his prison. 

It must've been a few days until Johanna returned. The keyboardist had slept a couple times but could never tell if it was night or day. Tuomas looked up at her fearfully as she entered, carrying a plate of what looked to be sausages, eggs, and potatoes. The rumbling of the man's empty stomach could be heard throughout the room. 

"I've decided to forgive you for the other day. If you'll be good from here on out, we should have no more incidents. Ok?" Johanna brought the plate over to him. 

Tuomas nodded sullenly and took the food she offered, deciding to play her twisted little game for now. After the plate was empty, he looked up at her pitifully. "Johanna, could you please let my arms down. I can't feel them anymore. I promise I'll be good." 

"You don't need to promise anything." The redhead walked behind her prisoner to the cabinet behind him. Tuomas heard her unlock it and take something out. He was about to turn and see what she had when he felt something poke him in the shoulder followed by a rushing numbness. 

As everything in him became impossible to move, he heard Johanna unhook his arms from the chains. Without their support, Tuomas collapsed in a heap to the ground, mentally hissing in pain as the sensitive skin on his chest hit the shockingly cold floor. He could still feel everything around him, but his entire body was numb. 

"Now then, lets see what we can do about your arms." He heard her get something out of the cabinet before closing it. She held up a handful of long thin needles. "Do you know what these are? They're acupuncture needles. Let's see if these bring some blood flow back to your arms. Mind you, I've never done this before so something may go very wrong. Let me know if this hurts. Oh, wait, you can't. You can't move, or talk; but you can feel." With that, she took one needle and stabbed it straight into Tuomas's stomach. 

The composer screamed silently at the sharp, stinging pain it caused. He tried to get up, to move, to fight back, but his body wouldn't respond. He couldn't even turn his head to look at the insane woman kneeling over him. 

For the next half an hour, Johanna stuck the needles into Tuomas's body. She put them everywhere she knew they would hurt, but nowhere essential. It wasn't until all the needles were gone that she rechained his arms. She pulled him back to a standing position with a strength he never knew she had, not that he could focus on it very well. Every movement caused the needles to shift, sending shocks of icy pain through him. 

Once he was standing, Johanna began yanking the needles back out. By now, the paralytic substance was wearing off, causing Tuomas to jerk at each removal of a needle, but this only hurt worse. 

After what seemed an eternity, the pain had fully subsided and Johanna stood before him. "Get used to this kind of thing. I plan on making you suffer for quite some time." With that, she kissed him and left. Tuomas lowered his head and cried softly at the hopelessness of his situation. He had a feeling he would be here for a long time. He only prayed it would end in his death.


	2. The Valley of the Shadow of Death

Days. Weeks. Hours. 

Tuomas had no way of knowing how long he has been locked up in that room. He tried to remember the feeling of sunlight on his face, of fresh grass under his bare feet, the smell of the warm lake air. For a brief while, he would escape his prison and fly home; but the cold dank air in that cellar would always pull him back.

Ever so often, Johanna would bring him food and drink. She would feed him and tell him how he was hers and how no one was even looking for him. Not that he was surprised; he was supposed to be up at the studio for a few weeks alone until Marco, Tero, and Mikko, their sound engineer, joined him. 

What Johanna did after she fed him varied with her mood. If she was in a good mood, she would numb him and let him rest for an hour or so while she "bathed" him. How she did this was she would strip him naked and clean him with a hose and a wash cloth. Afterwards she would redress him in the same clothes and chain him back up. 

Today, however, she was in a bad mood. A very bad mood. She slammed the door as she came in, jerking Tuomas from his blissful reverie. Without saying a word, she came over and rammed her fist into his ribs, audibly breaking a few. Tuomas gasped in pain and slumped under his chains. By now he'd become accustomed to this. It wasn't a rare occasion for her to just come in and attack him without reason. This usually meant she would also introduce some new kind of torture for him. She had already done this four times and had used caning, beating him with a metal bat, cutting his arms, legs, and chest with a serrated knife, and choking him as her methods of choice. He had learned to just take it and get it over as quickly as possible. Talking or begging only angered her more. 

Johanna rammed her elbow into his temple, causing everything to go fuzzy, before opening the cabinet behind him. The composer had come to dread that sound more than anything. It meant that he couldn't prepare himself, he didn't know what to expect. For a moment, everything was silent then suddenly he heard a snap followed instantly by searing pain in his back. Again and again the snap came, and again and again his back and shoulders screamed in pain. His voice echoed that scream with sounds that reverberated throughout the room. 

After what seemed like an eternity, Johanna walked around in front of him, grabbed a handful of his hair, and pulled his head up. He looked up wearily and saw her shirt and face spattered with blood, his blood. She held her weapon in front of her for his inspection. A cat-o-nine whip. The ends of each strand of leather held a small metal barb. A few of the barbs held pieces of torn flesh that had been ripped from his back. 

The sight of that mixed with the pain of the lacerations drenched in blood and sweat was more than the Finn could take. His stomach heaved and he vomited all over the floor and, unfortunately, Johanna. She recoiled in a rage he hadn't seen in her before. Before he could beg for her forgiveness, she lashed out with the whip again, mercilessly slashing his chest, arms, and legs. Everything around him began to spin and fade as the pain reached out and offered him the sweet comfort of numbing unconsciousness. The last thing he felt before he fully slipped off was Johanna smashing the table against his side, undoubtedly breaking more ribs.

When he woke up again, he was tied to the bed. Johanna sat next to him, washing a few of the wounds on his chest, not even noticing that he had regained consciousness. "How long have I been here?" Tuomas asked. 

"Two weeks and three days. Don't speak." That was all she said, and he should have known better than to go against her orders, but he had to know. 

"Why are you doing this?" 

"I told you not to speak! The next word out of your mouth will be your last." She glared at him. 

Tuomas thought a moment. At this point, that sounded like a promise rather than a threat. By now, death seemed like a blessing. "Fine. You'll probably end up killing me anyway, so let's get this over with." 

"How dare you! Here I am, trying to help you and you accuse me of trying to kill you? You are going to regret this." She jumped up from her chair and grabbed the wooden leg of the broken table from off of the floor. Without any warning, she slammed it onto Tuomas's knees, shattering the bones. 

The keyboardist howled in agony. Why? Why did he have to antagonize her? He could feel the sweet blackness calling him, but a shock of cold water pulled him back. He looked with horror as she dropped the glass and retrieved a wand-like item from the cabinet. As she came closer, Tuomas could hear it buzzing. She tapped his leg with it and a fuzzy shock of pain shot through his wet body. Again and again she tapped him with the prod as he writhed in agony on the bed, begging her for mercy. The electricity was only adding to the excruciating pain from the whip lashes that hadn't healed. 

Johanna don't stop her rampage until she saw him go limp. The room was filled with the smell of burning flesh and the echoes of his cries. She bent down and kissed his forehead, jumping as a shock passed through her. At the corner of his eye, she saw a tear trailing towards the pillow. Deep inside of her, the Johanna she use to be couldn't have stood to see that, but this Johanna, this crazed, vengeful version of Johanna saw it as victory. She turned and left the room, hoping she could sleep tonight without the nightmares that usually plagued her. She could feel the steely wall she had built around her conscience crumbling. She wouldn't be able to do this much longer.


	3. Redemption of the Lost

Sir? Mr. Holopainen. Tuomas.

No! He didn't want to wake up. He didn't want this sweet, numbing blackness to go away, but, to his dismay, he slowly regained consciousness. How long he had been out, he couldn't tell. All he did know was that the face of the man he was staring up at was unfamiliar, and that he was in so much pain. Every inch of his body was enflamed with an icy fire.

"Hello there. Don't worry now, you're safe. We've taken Miss Kurkela into custody, contacted your family, and we are getting ready to take you to the hospital. My name is Jaska. Jaska Kovinnainen. I'm a paramedic. I'm just untying your arms and legs while they get a gurney down here. Why don't you talk to me a bit."

"What day is it? What time is it?" the battered composer asked weakly. He hissed as the untying of his foot caused his shattered knee to move, sending a wave of pain through him.

"It's August 4th. About 10:30 PM." Jaska looked at him kindly as he reached towards Tuomas's hands.

"Almost two months. I came here on June 17th. How did you find me?"

"Well, believe it or not, Johanna called us. She said to send a police car and an ambulance because she had a man tied up in her basement. At first we thought that she had just found someone down here, but when we got here, she told us the whole story. She told us that she had kidnapped you because you had ended your relationship and that she had been torturing you down here for almost two months. We didn't believe her right away, but she brought us down and showed us the door. Sure enough, here you were. The lieutenant is questioning her now. She's pretty shaken."

" _She's_ shaken?" Tuomas said sarcastically. "Where is my family?"

"They are waiting for you at the hospital. Anything else I can answer before we get you upstairs?" As he asked, two more paramedics entered their room with a gurney.

"How come no one heard me before now? I know Johanna doesn't have a soundproof room in her basement."

"This room is below the cellar. It was a bunker during World War II. The door is hidden behind the boiler in the basement. There's a set of stairs and a small hallway. If being six meters below ground isn't muffling enough, the walls are soundproofed. Plus, the area is not very heavily populated. Her closest neighbor is eighteen meters away. Now, let's get you to the hospital." The three men gently lifted the keyboardist onto the gurney and wheeled him up to the basement. As soon as they entered the cellar, Tuomas knew exactly where he was.

Another set of stairs and they were in the kitchen. As they wheeled him through the hallway, Tuomas saw Johanna sitting in the living room. He blanched at the sight of her, especially when she turned to look at him. He expected her to attack him, but that fear lessened when he really looked at her. Her eyes, which were puffy and red from crying, no longer held the manic look they had before. Now, they were filled with sadness and regret. Tuomas saw handcuffs on her wrists when she slowly raised her fingers to her lips and blew him a gentle kiss.

Suddenly, a giant of a man came and stood beside her. The lieutenant, easily recognized by his uniform, saluted Tuomas then signaled for the paramedics to take him out. The last the keyboardist ever saw of his persecutor was when she lowered her head and sat compliantly, hands folded in her lap, answering questions in monosyllables.

As they exited the house, Tuomas was met by a flurry of flashing lights. For a moment, his traumatized mind thought that he was floating among the stars. It wasn't until he heard his name being called that he realized that it was reporters. Apparently, every media company in Scandinavia had sent someone to cover the event. Thankfully, the paramedics got him into the ambulance quickly and before he knew it, they were at the hospital.

By now, he was so weak from malnutrition, blood loss, and pain that everything was just a blur. He couldn't seem to focus on anything, until he saw him mom. When her face came into view, he latched onto it, never wanting to let it out of his sight. He had never seen anything more beautiful, nor heard anything as comforting as her voice in his life. She held his hand as the took him into the ER surgery room. He saw her face pale as she saw the burns and deep whip marks on his chest and stomach. He tried to wipe the tears that were flowing down her cheeks, but the anesthetic they were injecting him with took its effect and he was one again welcomed into the all to familiar blackness.

The next time Tuomas woke up, he was laying in a hospital bed. His mom sat sleeping in a chair beside him and his dad stood by the window across the room. He moaned as the pain came creeping back. Thankfully it was only an ache, not the stabbing pain that was there before. He reached out and touched his mom's hand causing her to stir.

"Hey. How do you feel, sweetie?" She brushed a piece of hair off of his face and kissed his forehead.

"Ok. I hurt a bit, but not too badly. So what's happening? Where's Johanna? What happens from here on out? What's been happening while I was gone?"

His dad came over and sat on the bed. "Johanna's been taken to a institutional prison up north. Since she confessed and turned herself in, there will be no trial, just a sentencing, so you won't have to testify or anything. The police, however, would like to ask you a few questions and get a statement within the week. The doctor said that you'll be alright physically in a couple weeks, but you'll need some therapy for your knees. They've given us some different places you can go and get any help you need. As to what's happened while you were away, not much. Susanna had her operation for her carpel tunnel, which went well. Oh, that reminds me. They want to know if they can come see you."

Tuomas nodded. It would be good to see his family again. "Maybe tomorrow. Just maybe not everyone at once. And I'll talk to the police the day after that."

That night, the composer dreamt he was in a black void. The only light shone directly on him. All around him were noises that chilled his very blood. Sounds of creaky metal doors, snapping, buzzing, smashing wood. Suddenly, he felt everything begin shaking, as if there was an earthquake under him. He cried out in fear and thrashed about as, without warning, his whole body erupted in pain. Those cries continued as he bolted up in bed, slamming a fist into the ribs of a concerned doctor.

As the man calmed him down Tuomas looked around in panic. His dad and mom stood at the foot of the bed looking at him fearfully. When she realized that he wasn't thrashing anymore, with the doctor's ok, Kirsti rushed to her son's side and held him as he trembled in fear. Tuomas clung to her, burying his face into her shoulder, and cried. He cried very tear that he head held in while trapped in that basement. He let out every ounce of fear he had felt lock in those chains. It wasn't until almost half an hour later that he settled. He turned to the doctor who still stood beside the bed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

"It's alright. I was coming in to check on you and you started thrashing about. I tried to wake you and told your parents to stay back so you didn't hit one of them. It's alright though. You've had a very traumatic experience, so it's only natural to have some psychological wounds as well as physical. I have some sleeping pills here if that will help."

Tuomas shook his head. Right now, the only medicine he wanted was his mother's comforting arms, and she was more than happy to give it. She sat on the bed and gently rocked him, humming a gentle lullaby she had used when he was a child, until he drifted off into the fist sleep in months that was neither pain or medicinally induced. She realized that from here on out, he would need a lot of this. He would need reassurance of his safety and protection. He would need comfort, sympathy, a listening ear, and mostly, love. With these, and time, her son would heal in mind and body. She swore that she would see him healed, and she did.


End file.
